POV: Raevan
I found her at the edge of the fortress grounds, where the dunes began their slow climb into the horizon. Soraya stood alone, arms folded, wind tugging at her hair, the moon turning her into something carved from silver and fury. She’d planned to leave without another word. I felt it in my bones.
I should’ve let her go.
I should’ve given her distance.
But distance was the one thing I no longer knew how to stomach.
“Soraya,” I called softly.
She didn’t turn. Didn’t even breathe differently.
I stepped closer until only a few paces separated us. The night wind stung my face. My voice came rougher than I intended.
“I need to talk to you.”
“For what?” she asked flatly. “So you can convince me not to destroy Saren? Or so you can pretend Ashra suddenly matters to you again now that I’m leaving?”
I swallowed. “No. I’m not here for Ashra. I’m here… for you.”
A humorless sound escaped her. “You’re too late for that.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I’m still going to say what I should’ve said a long time ago.”
Soraya finally turned, eyes sharp, guarded. She looked exhausted—grief pressed into her skin like bruises. But beneath that, I saw the fire burning. The storm waiting.
“I want you,” I said.
Her breath hitched, though she masked it quickly with sarcasm. “Congratulations. Say that to your wife.”
I flinched. “Azhara is not—”
“She’s gave birth to your child,” Soraya snapped. “She has your name. Your ring. Your kingdom.”
“I never wanted any of that.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I exhaled shakily. “Let me speak. Please.”
Something in my voice must have reached her, because she didn’t walk away—not yet. I stepped closer.
“I spent a year in hell after you vanished,” I told her. “I thought you died. I felt it like a wound tearing open every day. I married Azhara because I felt trapped—by tradition, by elders, by the politics of two nations on the brink of war. And yes, because of that damn potion that ruined everything.”
She didn’t blink. Didn’t soften.
I continued anyway.
“When you were gone, I broke. I became everything you accuse me of being. Cruel. Reckless. Violent. I was a monster because I couldn’t live with the thought of you dead.”
Silence stretched. Wind howled.
“My son was born,” I said quietly. “I held him once. And all I felt was emptiness. Maybe guilt. Maybe failure. But never love. Not the way I should have. Because the only person I…”
My voice cracked.
Soraya’s lips parted, but she said nothing.
“I loved you,” I whispered. “From the first moment I saw you in that cursed arena. From the moment you glared at me as if you’d tear my throat out if you had the chance. I loved your fire. Your strength. How you kept surviving everything the world threw at you.”
Her breath shook.
“I love you still,” I said. “I never stopped.”
Her eyes shimmered, but she blinked the tears away violently.
“You have a wife,” she said sharply.
“A political marriage,” I replied. “A forced bond. A mistake built on manipulation and grief. I’ve never touched Azhara since the night she drugged me. And I never will again.”
“Your child—”
“I’ll raise him with honor,” I said. “I’ll never abandon him. But I won’t pretend that marriage is real. You know better than anyone how loveless unions destroy people.”
Her expression wavered. Just slightly. But enough for hope to slide in—dangerous, intoxicating.
I continued, voice lower.
“For a year, I screamed your name into empty rooms. For a year, I drowned myself in battles because it was easier than feeling. For a year, I wished I could die just to stop imagining your death.”
Soraya looked away, breath trembling.
“You think you’re the only one who lost something?” I asked softly. “You lost Baltimus. I lost you.”
She turned back sharply, voice breaking. “You didn’t lose me. You threw me away. Again and again. For duty. For pride. For Azhara. You hurt me so much I had to die for real to finally get peace.”
Her words sliced straight through skin and bone and soul. I inhaled slowly.
“You’re right,” I whispered. “And I’m sorry. For everything. For every time I cut you when I should’ve protected you. For every moment I hid behind tradition instead of choosing you. For being the man who made your life harder when all I wanted was to make it safer.”
She shook her head. “It’s too late.”
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be.”
Her gaze snapped to mine. Sharp. Burning. “Raevan, I’m not staying.”
“I didn’t ask you to stay,” I said softly. “I’m asking you to let me help you. Through your grief. Through your rage. Through all of this. You don’t have to fight alone.”
She stepped back. “I do.”
“Soraya—”
“No.”
Her voice cracked like thunder.
“I’m still going to war. I’m still taking down Saren. And if Ashra stands in my way, then Ashra will burn too.”
I felt my wolf recoil. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” Her eyes gleamed silver. “I won’t attack Ashra… if you truly want to change. If you rule better. If you stop hurting your people—and me.”
I nodded slowly. “I can try.”
“Good,” she said. “But Saren will fall. I’m ending Zarek. I owe that to Baltimus. I owe that to myself. And nothing—not you, not Ashra, not the desert—will stop me.”
The wind whipped around us. Her cloak snapped like wings.
“Where will you go?” I whispered.
“Away,” she said simply. “Far from you. Far from Ashra. Far from everyone until I’m ready.”
I swallowed hard. “Will you ever come back?”
She hesitated. Just long enough to hurt.
“I don’t know.”
Those three words crushed me more than any blade ever could.
She turned away.
“Goodbye, Raevan.”
My voice barely made it out.
“Soraya…”
She didn’t stop walking.
And as she slipped into the desert darkness, leaving me behind once again, I finally understood what true punishment felt like—not death, not war, not bloodshed—but losing the woman I loved to her grief and my sins all at once.